


Project Icarus

by guardsguards



Series: CIA!Dirk 'verse [1]
Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Backstory, Brief References to Torture, CIA!Dirk, Childhood, Gen, Happy Ending, Non-Consensual Drug Use, POV Alternating, Project Black Wing, Prompt Fill, Scars, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9507176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardsguards/pseuds/guardsguards
Summary: Doctor Patel notes that Icarus has stopped asking for a friend and has begun asking for ‘an assistant’ with whom he can ‘solve the case’.Set in an alternate universe where Dirk doesn't leave the CIA. Dirk is a ray of sunshine, but there are definitely angsty undertones in this. Mostly gen with a hint of Brotzly at the end.





	1. Age 9, Morkin

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [eloquencejones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloquencejones/pseuds/eloquencejones) in the [gentlychallenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/gentlychallenge) collection. 



**Project Icarus**

**Age: 9 yrs**

**Supervisor: Lieutenant Colonel S. Riggins**

**Log Entry: 00241.1**

**No progress has been made on the task given to Icarus, details of which are recorded in Entry 00239.2 of this log. Doctor Patel notes that Icarus has stopped asking for a friend and has begun asking for ‘an assistant’ with whom he can ‘solve the case’. Lieutenant Colonel Riggins has elected to comply with this request, to observe whether or not it facilitates Icarus’ completion of the task.**

* * *

 

Svlad, nose buried in his book, startles when he hears a soft thud against the cold floor of his bedroom. This bedroom is new, and not as comfortable as his old bedroom, but the small size and lack of any decoration means it was at least very easy to learn his way around.

“Is somebody there?” he says, setting his book to one side, “Doctor Patel?” There is no response, so he turns his attention to whatever has been dropped onto his floor. It came through the letter box which – in Svlad’s experience – opens much more frequently than the door it is attached to.

The source of the thud is, upon closer inspection, a teddy bear. On the label, somebody has written ‘ASSISTANT’ in permanent marker. The bear hangs limply in Svlad’s grip, which isn’t a very assistant-like thing to do, but Svlad doesn’t mind too much.

“Do you have a name?” he asks, “I can’t just call you ‘assistant’ all the time, that would be horribly rude. We’ll find you a name, okay?”

Teddy bear in hand, Svlad hops back up onto his bed and heaves the book he was reading back onto his lap.

“This is called a dictionary. It’s my favourite book, which is lucky because it’s the only one I have. It has lots of words and definitions, and lots of black rectangles,” he explains. The bear stares blankly at the ceiling with its beady black eyes.

“Yes, I know what you’re thinking,” Svlad continues, flipping through the pages. “The black rectangles do look a bit like they used to be words with definitions too, and somebody’s covered them up. But you’re wrong. The black rectangles have always been there, and they always will be.”

“Now, let’s forget about the rectangles and find you a name, okay?” he decides, opening the dictionary on a random page and closing his eyes. He swirls his finger around above the page, before jabbing it down on a random word.

“Mor-kin,” he reads, not bothering with checking the definition. After all, ‘morkin’ is no longer just a word in the dictionary, it’s the name of Svlad’s new assistant slash friend slash only companion. “Nice to meet you, Morkin. Now, would you like to work on a case with me?”

 

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 00241.2**

**Within 3 hours of exposure to the ‘assistant’, hereon referred to as M, Icarus completed the task he had been set. He correctly determined the location of 9 of the 10 objects. Repeated tests of a similar nature are required before conclusions can be drawn, though Lieutenant Colonel Riggins states that the result is ‘very promising’.**

* * *

 

**From the desk of Lieutenant Colonel S Riggins**

Having fielded repeated requests from various parties re: taking the bear away from Project Icarus, I am sending out this general memo to the whole research team.

I see no reason to remove the bear at this time. If anything, it seems to be helping with the testing. Anybody who suggests this again, without good reason, is getting reassigned to Project Moloch.

 

* * *

 

Svlad fidgets in his chair, glancing anxiously at the bed every few seconds, where Morkin sits all alone.

“I need you to focus on the cards, Svlad. Can you do that for me?” Doctor Patel says, her voice as monotone and calm as it always is, “You can have the bear back when you’re done.”

“Yellow waves,” Svlad blurts out, too focused on his far-off best friend to notice the slight furrow of the doctor’s brow.

“No, that’s wrong again. I don’t think you’re paying attention, are you? You remember what you need to do, clear your mind and try to see what card I’m holding,” she repeats for the sixth time that afternoon.

Svlad tries to concentrate. “Red- no, green. Green circle?” he tries. The doctor shakes her head, and Svlad’s shoulders hunch forward a little more. “It’s hard to solve a case without my assistant,” he mumbles.

“This isn’t a case. This is an experiment, Svlad. I told you, you’ll get the bear back afterwards. Your bear is an extraneous variable that might affect the validity of the experiment, do you understand?”

Svlad hesitates, then shakes his head. Doctor Patel sighs, before speaking into the little microphone attached to her lapel: “I’m calling it a day, this is pointless. Unlock the door for me.”

As she leaves, Svlad hurries back over to Morkin and scoops him up into a hug.

 

* * *

 

**From the desk of Dr Patel**

I’m going over Riggins’ head on this, he’s not the one who has to deal with Icarus every day. Somebody get rid of the fucking bear. We can say it got lost.

 

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 00263.1**

**Efforts have ceased to locate M, which went missing during a routine laundry cycle. Initial reports of Icarus’ strong attachment to M seem to have been accurate, as he has refused to comply with any commands since the disappearance.**

**Doctor Patel has suggested the use of [REDACTED] Treatment on Icarus. Due to the treatment’s varying success in facilitating the compliance of other subjects, and potential side effects, it will require a unanimous vote to be implemented.**

* * *

 

Svlad is sat on his bed, hugging his pillow to his chest when the door opens unexpectedly. He doesn’t usually get more than two visitors in one day. One of the doctors comes every day for experiments, and about once a week Lieutenant Colonel Riggins comes for a visit. Riggins was there earlier to tell Svlad that Morkin was gone forever, and one of the doctors has already come, though Svlad refused to tell her what symbols were on the cards.

He looks up to see Doctor Patel coming in, one of her hands fishing around in the pocket of her lab coat as she walks over to the bed.

“I see Riggins told you what happened to the bear,” she says.

“Morkin,” Svlad corrects glumly, “My assistant.”

“The bear wasn’t an assistant. The bear was a _reward_ , you understand? And rewards get taken away when we don’t deserve them.” Her voice is unusually harsh, and Svlad notices that her hand has been removed from her pocket, clenched into a fist.

As Svlad watches in confusion, the fist opens to reveal two black beads, and a torn-off label that reads ‘ASSISTANT’.

 

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 00263.2**

**Icarus, who has been consistently rated at zero risk for violent tendencies in psychological evaluations, attempted to strike Doctor Patel at 20:34. Although Icarus poses no real physical threat at this stage in his development, the unprovoked nature of this outburst is concerning.**

**The research team have voted unanimously in favour of administering [REDACTED] Treatment.**

* * *

 

 **mor** **·kin** _noun_ an animal that has died by disease or mischance  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This chapter is a little different to the others, because I figured a nine year old's POV would be fairly simple. Hope you enjoyed.


	2. Age 16, Jonathan

**Project Icarus**

**Age: 16 yrs**

**Supervisor: Colonel S. Riggins**

**Log Entry: 02757.1**

**Icarus goes out on his first external mission today. This decision comes as a result of the success of several laboratory trials, and a passable score for compliance during his most recent psychological evaluation.**

**Agent Jonathan has been assigned to monitor Icarus’ progress and ensure that he stays within mission parameters. In any communication with Icarus, the agent is to be referred to as his ‘assistant’. Agent Jonathan and Icarus will be sharing an apartment for the duration of the mission. Non-emergency visits from other staff members are prohibited.**

**The research team will have access to the audio feed from a microphone attached to Agent Jonathan’s person, and to video feed from 4 cameras inside of the apartment.**

* * *

 

Jonathan knew he’d only been given this mission because of his age. He never scored more than slightly above average in performance reviews, he took too long to fill out paperwork, and he suspected he had come close to failing his most recent psych evaluation. Still, at 19 years of age, he was by far the youngest agent who had any experience in Project Black Wing, so he’d been drafted as a companion for Project Icarus. It would certainly be an improvement on security duty with Project Moloch. All the newbies got assigned to Moloch.

Project Icarus – or Svlad - was nothing like what Jonathan had expected.

Sure, he’d been informed that the subject was a sixteen year-old, but he’d sort of expected a sixteen year-old from Project Black Wing to be something exceptional. Glancing across at Project Icarus, who gave him a nervous wave, Jonathan thought that he had looked more superhuman at age sixteen than this kid did.

They were sat in the back of a non-descript CIA van, on the way to Renton, Washington for a mission. Jonathan usually preferred to travel in silence, mentally preparing for the mission ahead, but Svlad evidently didn’t have the same preference.

“Are you thinking about anything interesting?” he asked, breaking the silence, “I’m Dirk, by the way. I don’t know what they told you about me; they told me almost nothing about you. I’m a detective.”

“Your name is Svlad. Why are you trying to lie to me?” Jonathan replied gruffly, leaning in, and pinning Svlad with a sharp stare. Svlad jerked backwards in his seat and looked satisfyingly frightened.

“Not lying! I just thought that if I’m a secret agent now, I should have a secret agent name, and I never really liked Svlad anyway,” he stammered out, voice cracking. Jonathan tried to remember if his voice still did that when he was sixteen. “Anyway, doesn’t ‘Dirk and Jonathan’ have a nicer ring to it than ‘Svlad and Jonathan’? I think it does.”

Svlad was smiling nervously, and Jonathan was suddenly reminded of one of the briefing documents he’d received regarding this mission.

 

* * *

 

**From the desk of Colonel S Riggins**

I’m going to preface this by saying that you are underqualified for this mission. However, you’re young, and I think Svlad will be more likely to confide in somebody close to his own age.

This letter is a supplement to the official briefing you received from Dr Esposito about the mission. I am writing specifically to brief you on Project Icarus (Svlad), the boy who you will be supervising.

Svlad is sixteen. He was brought in when he was eight years old and has been with us ever since. Full details of his abilities are classified for somebody of your rank, but it suffices to say that he has psychic abilities that we believe can be of great use if trained properly. Svlad will tell you that he ‘solves mysteries’, and he will refer to you as his ‘assistant’.

An important thing to remember is that Svlad has had only very limited exposure to the outside world and to other people since we first brought him in. He regularly sees me and the five scientists currently assigned to him. On rare occasions, he will meet somebody new for the sake of a particular test. He also goes outside a few times a week, but he stays within the fences of the base. We have good reason to believe that he will take well to being in a city, though he’s likely to get distracted by the new environment, so you should try to keep him focused on the mission.

Fortunately, Svlad is very sociable and friendly. He’s likely to take to you quickly, as this is the first opportunity he’s had to interact with somebody of his own age. Svlad is also very talkative, which will make it easy for you to keep records of his progress in the mission.

Obviously, Svlad isn’t particularly self-sufficient. You’ll need to show him the basics of living alone. He’s smart, though, he’ll pick it up quickly.

Most importantly: be nice to him. I doubt your personalities will mesh, but it’s your job to pretend that you like him and to make friends. He can be sensitive; do not put on a tough guy act and give him a reason to be frightened of you. Remember, you want him to tell you as much as possible.

Mess this up and you’ll be back on Project Moloch before you know it.

 

* * *

 

Perhaps, Dirk mused, his new assistant was just suffering from first-day nerves. It made sense, since Dirk was nervous too, though he hadn’t been expressing his nervousness through terrifying glares. Still, Jonathan had eventually stopped glaring and the back of the van had lapsed back into silence, though Dirk continued to watch the other man with thinly veiled curiosity.

“How old are you?” he asked eventually, “Colonel Riggins said you’re about my age, but you don’t look it. Then again, I never see anybody my age so I’ve only really got myself for comparison, and perhaps I’m horribly abnormal. I stay inside a lot, you see. Colonel Riggins says lots of boys my age choose to stay inside most of the time, but I don’t know why they would, given the choice. It gets so stuffy being indoors.”

“I’m 19,” Jonathan replied bluntly, “And you’re not abnormal, for your age.”

Dirk beamed at the response. Really, Jonathan could have said anything and Dirk would have been happy for the conversation. “You look very mature for 19. Perhaps it’s the suit. Oh, I have a suit too now! It’s in my bag. I’ve never had one before – didn’t really need one – but since I’m out representing the CIA on an important mission I have to look smart,” Dirk said, “Though it is a black suit, and I don’t know if black is really my colour.”

“I’m sure you look great in it,” Jonathan replied, his tone the very opposite of enthusiastic, though Dirk was flustered enough by the compliment that he didn’t pay much attention to little details like that.

“Oh, well, thank you. We’ll see soon enough, won’t we? I have a badge too! Do you have a badge?” Dirk asked excitedly, “What am I saying, of course you have a badge, you’re a fully-fledged agent.” Dirk reached into his jacket pocket, grabbing the badge Colonel Riggins had given him and flashing it at Jonathan.

Jonathan snorted in amusement and took the badge from Dirk, flipping it so that it was the right way up. “Try not to do that in front of civilians, okay?” he said firmly.

Dirk nodded, putting on his best serious expression. A few seconds later, it broke into a smile again.

 

* * *

 

**to: <’Project Icarus Staff’>  
from: <a.patel@[REDACTED].gov>**

Did somebody give Icarus unauthorised literature? There are two books on his shelf that aren’t on the list of approved material, how long has he had these? I’m tossing them in the incinerator.

Regards,  
Dr Patel

 

**to: <a.patel@[REDACTED].gov>  
from: <b.lee@[REDACTED].gov>**

He asked me why his voice was breaking in one of our sessions, so I gave him some books that would answer his questions. If you want to be the one to have that conversation with him, then be my guest. Seems silly to still be censoring his reading material when he’s gearing up to go on an external mission next week anyway.

Dr Lee

 

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 02766.1**

**Icarus’ first external mission comes to an end today, having been only a partial success. Icarus was eventually able determine the location of the double agent known as [REDACTED]. However, due to taking on a secondary ‘case’ during the mission, Icarus’ efficiency was much lower than hoped for.**

**Some members of the research team have argued that ‘Icarus bumping into [REDACTED] in the street cannot be truly counted as succeeding in his mission’. Colonel Riggins states that any unusual coincidences are likely a result of Icarus’ abilities.**

* * *

 

Dirk hadn’t even noticed who he’d bumped into, until Jonathan was tackling the man to the ground and shouting at Dirk to call it in. He looked at the man on the floor, and recognised him as Agent Hardy – or rather, former Agent Hardy - from the dossier he’d been given at the start of the mission. This was the double agent he’d been tracking when he’d been distracted by the infinitely more interesting case of Mrs Campbell’s geometrically impossible soup cans.

He fumbled to reach for the radio he’d been given to contact the CIA with, but apparently calling it in wasn’t necessary. The CIA already knew.

With a screech of tires, a van pulled up at the curb. That’s when things became truly chaotic.

Dirk caught the second half of an order: “-and get Icarus out of here, now!”

He felt Jonathan grabbing his arm and pulling him down the street, away from their target and away from the van, which seemed to be emanating a rough screeching sound even with the engine switched off.

The back of the van opened suddenly and Dirk watched with wide eyes as a machete blade emerged and glided through the neck of former Agent Hardy, sending an arc of red spurting through the air.

Dirk suspected he was screaming, because the blood-soaked machete-wielder had turned to look at him, eyes meeting for a terrifying second before Jonathan pulled him into a side alley and out of view.

Jonathan was cursing as Dirk clung onto him for dear life, wishing for the first time that he could return to the relative safety of his bedroom at the CIA.

 

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 02766.2**

**Reports from Agent Jonathan indicate that Icarus was accidentally exposed to Project Marzanna just after the completion of his mission. Agent Jonathan reports that Icarus was greatly distressed by the incident.**

**Dr Lee has requested a session with Icarus immediately upon his return to [REDACTED] Base in order to prevent any long term negative effects this exposure may cause.**

* * *

 

**to: <’Project Icarus Staff’>  
from: <b.lee@[REDACTED].gov>**

As expected, Icarus isn’t in a very good state after everything that happened. He won’t talk to me about seeing Marzanna, even though he’s obviously upset about it. He just asked if Agent Jonathan was okay and if he could see him again, and insisted that he be able to contact a Mrs Campbell about ‘completing her case’. Both requests denied, of course.

I hope all the grunts responsible for this mess get terminated. It doesn’t take a genius to realise that Icarus and Marzanna wouldn’t mix well together.

Dr Lee

 

* * *

 

Dirk was curled up on his bed when he heard the door open, and the sound of heavy footsteps told him that it was Colonel Riggins. He didn’t look up.

“Is Jonathan okay? The car that brought me back left him behind. Dr Lee says I can’t see him again,” he said quietly.

“Dr Lee was right. Agent Jonathan isn’t working in our department anymore,” Riggins replied, “He should have gotten you away faster. You were never meant to see what you saw.”

“But it was still meant to happen, right? Whether I saw it or not, that… person was meant to be there. Was meant to kill Agent Hardy,” Dirk retorted, voice raised a little, “Nobody _told_ me. You said you just wanted to ask him some questions.”

“We said that to protect you. Working for the CIA is a big responsibility, Svlad, sometimes that responsibility can be hard to bear.”

“I don’t think I want to work for the CIA anymore. I don’t like the CIA’s mysteries.”

Colonel Riggins’ hesitated, then gave Dirk’s shoulder a firm pat. “You’re just upset. This will pass. Goodnight, Svlad,” he said.

When Riggins was gone, Dirk curled up tighter, reminding himself firmly that ‘CIA agents don’t cry’.

 

* * *

 

**Project Moloch**

**Log Entry: 03438.1**

**Agent Jonathan – recently returned from working on Project Icarus – was accidentally terminated by Moloch today during a routine cleaning. A replacement is being sought.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers of my previous fic may recognise Jonathan, though I don't think he's quite as bad in this. I just wanted to give him that grizzly death I promised.


	3. Age 21, Sony

**Project Icarus**

**Age: 21 yrs**

**Supervisor: Colonel S. Riggins**

**Log Entry: 04781.1**

**Icarus begins his twelfth external mission today as planned, despite the sudden illness of Agent Kelly, his usual supervisor. In lieu of a replacement supervisor, Icarus has been provided a Dictaphone with which he can record his progress, and has been instructed to phone-in reports as often as possible.**

**His mission is to locate former Agent [REDACTED]. Dr Lee is confident that Icarus has moved past his previous discomfort with this type of mission.**

* * *

 

**Audio Log 00001.1, Transcription**

Um, hi. Hello. Sorry, that’s not how I’m meant to start, is it? No, it’s meant to be…

Project Icarus, Audio Log zero zero zero zero zero one point one. No, that’s one too many zeros. Zero zero zero zero… I’ve lost track again. Okay, well, it’s the fifth of July 2006.

My usual assistant Agent Kelly isn’t here, and his replacement is – um – you. Agent Dictaphone. I’ll call you Sony, okay? I can see that you have a lot of potential, Sony, which is why I’m allowing you to be my assistant on this _very_ important case. Sorry, I mean mission. This _very_ important mission.

_[pause]_

Just between you and me, Sony, I don’t know if I’m really cut out for being a CIA agent. Agent Kelly didn’t think I was any good at it, he was always angry at me for getting distracted. But it’s not my fault! Sometimes the universe just seems to be… pulling me one way, and the CIA is telling me to go the other. Agent Kelly said I need to learn to ignore distractions, but the thing is that if I ignore a case that the universe wants me to solve then it just pops back up again later, until I solve it.

_[sigh]_

I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Sony, but you’re not quite as nice to talk to as a real person. Agent Kelly might have been mean, but at least he talked back.

 

* * *

 

**to: <’All Personnel’>  
from: <s.riggins@[REDACTED].gov>**

We have a **CODE YELLOW** situation. Project Incubus have escaped during routine transportation. All non-essential security personnel in the [REDACTED] area have been drafted to aid in their immediate re-capture.

Please note: Project Icarus is currently working in [REDACTED]. All reasonable effort should be made to prevent contact between Icarus and Incubus at this time.

 

* * *

 

**Audio Log 00004.2, Transcription**

Okay, so, bear with me. I know I’m supposed to be looking for this former Agent Frankwell character, but something else has come up. I haven’t mentioned it in my phone-in reports, I know that’s bad.

So, I met this rather lovely woman named Laura… Stop. I know what you’re thinking, Sony, and it’s nothing like that. Laura’s in her 40s and she has a husband and two delightful children. Oh, and she has the most spectacular glasses I’ve ever seen. It makes me regret having such good eyesight that I don’t need a pair of my own. I haven’t mentioned to her that I’m in the CIA, but I _did_ say I’m a professional detective, which I don’t think is technically a lie.

Anyway, the universe obviously wanted me to meet Laura because she bumped into me three times at the supermarket! After the third time, we started having a conversation and it turns out that she is in dire need of a detective, because she’s been getting these bizarre letters.

She took me back to her house and showed them to me. Four letters in total, all of them just scribbled nonsense, but when you lay them on top of each other and shine light through them, they make a map! I know, it’s very cool.

So now I’m on my way to the location the map points to and hopefully- oh, hello, did you want someth-

_[unintelligible shouting]_

 

* * *

 

Vogel swung around the corner of a building, narrowly avoiding slamming into a street lamp as he ran down the street, a heavy chain wrapped around his wrist and trailing behind him. His senses were alight, fire racing through his veins and getting hotter as he got closer to the energy source that was calling out to him.

Gripps, Cross and Martin were similarly armed with whatever weapons they could find, and similarly focused on tracking the tantalising scent of a high-energy subject. Cross swung his crowbar against a parked car, shattering the windshield and prompting a spike of panicked energy from a passer-by, but he ignored it. That was small fry compared to the fish they were hunting.

It didn’t take long to find him, standing at the end of the street, talking to a little handheld machine and emanating waves of concentrated energy.

“Rowdy boys!” Martin hollered as he strode over to their energy source, the others quickly following suit.

“Oh, hello, did you want someth-“ the man began, then got a good look at them and dropped the device he was holding in alarm, “What do you want? Don’t hurt me! I’m with the CIA!” he exclaimed shrilly.

That prompted a roar of “No more cages!” from Gripps, accompanied by the sound of the fence-post he was holding slamming against the ground, and a snarl from Cross.

The energy source stumbled back as he tried to get away, falling and then folding his arms over his head defensively as he was surrounded. The taste of fear in the air was so intense that holding off any longer wasn’t an option.

Feeding after so long in captivity, so long of getting scraps only when somebody in a lab coat deigned them to be hungry enough, was glorious. When they were done, Vogel pumped his fist in the air and howled in celebration. The others joined him, already impatient to move on to more.

Martin grinned. No more cages, indeed.

 

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 04784.3**

**Icarus phoned in a distress call at 16:09. From his description, it was evident that he’d run into Project Incubus, though he has not been informed of their identity and still believes it to have been a random attack. Icarus’ request for aid was denied when it became clear he had sustained no physical damage.**

**Dispatch reports that, when pressed for an update on his progress, Icarus seemed to be withholding information.**

**Project Incubus have been re-captured, thanks in part to the information provided by Icarus.**

* * *

 

**Audio Log 00004.3, Transcription**

So, there was a bit of a hold up. And the lady on the phone was right, I’m not really hurt so there’s nothing stopping me from continuing my work. I do feel _completely_ drained though, I suppose that’s stress. Or fear.

Anyway, I went to a bakery to make myself feel better. They had these dinky little cupcakes with all different coloured frosting. I would’ve bought out the shop, except I already spent most of the money the CIA gave me for this mission on ties. You see, I have to wear a regulation suit, but I’m allowed to wear whatever tie I like. Cool, right?

What was I talking about? Oh, yes, cupcakes. So, I bought two for myself and three for Laura and her children. I mean, they helped me when I was stressed, and Laura seemed quite stressed about the letters, so I thought they might help her. I suppose it’s the burden of the detective to always be around people when they’re stressed.

_[pause]_

It seems I’ve arrived. This certainly does seem like a very suspicious building, very dark and deserted. Some might find it scary, but I’m a CIA agent.

_[prolonged pause]_

It’s quite dusty. And dark. Perhaps it would be better to come back in the morning? Oh, but poor Laura really shouldn’t be made to wait longer than necessa-

_[unknown voice]_ Hello, Project Icarus.

_[Dictaphone appears to have been dropped, remainder of the recording is too muffled for accurate transcription]_

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 04784.4**

**Surveillance agents who went to check on Icarus at 19:30 were unable to locate him. It appears his tracking device has been tampered with and is giving false readings. It is unlikely that Icarus himself has the technological capability to reprogram such a device.**

**A further eight agents have been deployed in the search for Icarus. They will perform a radial sweep, starting from the location of Icarus’ earlier distress call at 16:09.**

* * *

 

“Hello, Project Icarus.”

Dirk nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning around so fast that he stumbled and fell against the wall. Sony clattered to the ground.

“Laura?” he asked incredulously, immediately recognising the woman who stood on the opposite side of the dim room. He pressed a hand to his chest as he exhaled in relief, “God, you don’t know what a fright you gave- wait… What did you call me?”

“Project Icarus. Really, I’m insulted that the CIA thought I wouldn’t recognise a subject I once worked on, though I suppose you were only a boy at the time,” Laura said, taking off her glasses and placing them into her coat pocket.

“How do you know about all that? You’re just… You’re a housewife. You said you used to work in finance. I don’t understand.”

“Now, Dirk, you may have never actually met me as a child, but surely they gave you my photo when you were assigned to hunt me down,” Laura replied with a tutting sound, shaking her head.

“Photo…” Dirk murmured, then squinted at Laura’s face. The hair was the wrong colour, and there were a few more age lines, but without the glasses the face was undeniably similar. “Former Agent Frankwell,” he breathed.

“Bingo. With your abilities, I really thought you’d be better at this,” Laura was saying, hand reaching into her bag and pulling something out. Dirk froze. That was most certainly a gun.

“Why would they send me looking for you? You don’t seem like a bad person,” Dirk stammered out, gaze flicking anxiously between the gun and Laura’s face, “I’m not going to hurt you!”

“No, I doubt _you_ will. But I’m not getting sliced up by that damn abomination Marzanna for a mistake I made seven years ago,” Laura replied coolly, the gun now aimed at Dirk. Dirk thought it was really very unfair that his life was being threatened twice in one day. “And don’t bother pushing your panic button. I set this place up with a scrambler; whatever tracking device you’re wearing is useless now.”

“You don’t have to kill me. I won’t tell them I found you! I’ll report the mission as a failure!” Dirk tried frantically, and the look Laura gave him was almost sympathetic.

“They’ll force the information out of you, Svlad. They’ve done it before. I was there.”

Dirk blanched, and didn’t have time to form a response before the whole world was reduced to a dreadful ringing sound and a piercing pain in his abdomen.

 

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 04784.5**

**Icarus was located at 19:58, having sustained a serious gunshot wound to his abdomen. He is being transported back to [REDACTED] Base in the van usually reserved for Project Marzanna, as it was the only available vehicle containing the necessary space and medical supplies.**

**Audio footage from Icarus’ Dictaphone is being reviewed.**

* * *

 

Dirk didn’t want to open his eyes.

He was in a vehicle that definitely wasn’t designed for the wounded, as the bench he was laid across was rattling alarmingly and, every few moments, the van jolted, sending a burst of fresh pain radiating from the wound in his gut.

He cracked one eye open, and managed only a rather pathetic whine when he saw that the Grim Reaper was staring down at him. Contrary to popular belief, Grim appeared to be female.

“Hey,” she was saying to a figure Dirk couldn’t really see, voice grating and strangely familiar, “Somebody didn’t kill this guy right. He’s bleeding ‘n stuff but he ain’t dead. Should I finish the job?”

Dirk didn’t fully process what she was talking about, but fortunately the other man in the back of the van with them did, because he responded in the negative. The woman shrugged and shifted so she was sitting cross-legged beside Dirk.

“How’s that feel? The place where all the blood is coming out?” she asked.

“Painful,” Dirk croaked, wincing as they hit another bump in the road.

“And what’s painful feel like?”

Dirk groaned, he really wasn’t in the right state of mind to be answering questions like that. “Bad. How much longer before we get back?” he asked. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious.

“Not much longer,” the other man replied, at the same time as Grim replied “However long it takes.”

Dirk felt pretty sorry for himself, stuck in the back of a van with a rather unsympathetic man and death-incarnate, who also happened to be a madwoman. He was quite grateful when he lapsed back into unconsciousness a few moments later.

 

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 04785.1**

**Icarus is in a stable condition, and should make a full recovery according to reports from medical. Testing and missions are postponed for at least two weeks.**

**Colonel Riggins reports that Icarus seemed unexpectedly distressed at the news that his target, former Agent [REDACTED], had been apprehended and terminated. Dr Lee will follow up on this in his next session.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing Bart. I'm definitely going to have to write more of her in the future.


	4. Age 25-26, Kevin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before the rainbow comes the rain. I promise less angst in chapter 5. Also please be aware of the updated tags.

**Project Icarus**

**Age: 25 yrs**

**Supervisor: Colonel S. Riggins**

**Log Entry: 06406.1**

**Icarus was recovered at 02:51 by Team Gamma and transported immediately to Medical Facility C, having sustained one stab wound to the thigh, several smaller knife wounds, and heavy bruising to the torso. Medical reports that he is in a stable condition.**

**The perpetrator –  Kevin Johnson, a civilian related to an unauthorised case taken on by Icarus during his mission – has been brought in for questioning.**

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 06428.1**

**The scheduled start date of Icarus’ mission has been postponed by five days at the recommendation of Dr Novichkova. The research team agreed that Icarus should be allowed time to recover from his recent injuries.**

**Icarus himself strongly protested this decision when informed.**

* * *

 

Since turning eighteen, Dirk had been fortunate enough to spend all of his birthdays as a free man. A relatively free man, at least. Free enough that he could walk into the nearest Denny’s, show them his ID, and get a complimentary birthday breakfast.

He’d expected this birthday to be no different. After all, these days he spent almost three quarters of the year out on external missions, and he’d been told he had a mission scheduled. He’d even seen the briefing dossier, with the dates and everything.

And then he’d gotten stabbed.

In terms of physical pain, getting stabbed had been about the same as getting shot. What made it much, _much_ worse was being tied to a chair for an hour, subject to the whims of a psychopath and his hunting knife. Dirk shook his head, forcing himself to think of kittens until the memories dissipated.

Despite everything, Dirk had dared to hope that he’d still be allowed out on his next mission as scheduled. Sure, his leg hurt, and he was a little nervous about being alone again, but they’d assured him that Johnson was locked up securely, and he really didn’t want to miss out on the birthday tradition he’d created for himself.

Unfortunately, Colonel Riggins had come bearing bad news that morning. Dirk would be spending his birthday surrounded by four white walls instead of cheerfully bustling wait staff, and eating nutritionally-balanced rations instead of decadently fluffy pancakes and bacon and eggs-

His stomach growled, and he tried to stop thinking about the birthday breakfast he now wouldn’t be getting until he turned 27. Perhaps not even then.

Things might have even been better if he were still in the medical ward. It was spacious there, and he could sometimes persuade the nurses to stop for a chat. If he was really lucky, there would be another agent also getting treated and he could talk to them for hours before they realised who he was and began ignoring him.

Dirk had been moved out of the medical ward and back into his bedroom yesterday morning, though. The bedroom that had seemed small when he was nine had become unbearably cramped after his final growth spurt at the age of nineteen. He could walk from wall to wall in three and a half strides, something he found himself doing very often to pass the time. The seventeen books on his shelf had all been read cover to cover multiple times, and his periodic attempts to buy books while out on missions and smuggle them in were always unsuccessful. Dirk suspected that Dr Patel just liked incinerating his possessions.

Worst of all, being alone encouraged Dirk’s mind to wander, and right now it only seemed to be wandering back to unpleasant memories. Perhaps the doctors knew of some way to erase unpleasant memories, he thought. Even if they did, it was probably classified beyond his clearance level.

He was pulled away from his thoughts when he glanced over at the clock and saw the time. As it ticked over to midnight, Dirk hummed ‘Happy Birthday’ to himself, and thought of pancakes.

 

* * *

 

**to: <’Project Icarus Staff’>  
from: <r.esposito@[REDACTED].gov>**

Do we know what’s up with Icarus? It’s not like him to act so miserable, has something happened? Apart from that whole torture incident, obviously. Brian’s doing his pre-mission psych eval soon and I don’t want the results skewed.

Regards,  
Dr Esposito

 

**to: <’Project Icarus Staff’>  
from: <a.patel@[REDACTED].gov>**

He’s always sulking, I don’t know why you’re surprised. Just mix some Diazepam into his water and you’re good to go.

Regards,  
Dr Patel

 

**to: <’Project Icarus Staff’>  
from: <b.lee@[REDACTED].gov>**

Helpful as always, Anaisha. Whatever happened to needing the psychologist’s approval to administer mood-altering drugs?

In answer to the original question, I checked the calendar and apparently it’s his birthday. That might have something to do with it.

And while I’ve got you, Rick, do you know if we still have that Johnson character around somewhere, the crazy knife guy? I’m drafting a proposal to use him in my next experiment with Icarus, but I don’t want to waste my time if they’ve already had him terminated.

Thanks,  
Dr Lee

 

* * *

 

**Report: Experiment L.209**

**As outlined in the proposal, Icarus was unknowingly dosed with 10ccs of CRH 15 minutes in advance of the experiment, and was given mescaline-laced tea upon entry to Observation Room C2 at 16:03. Icarus was led to believe that the session was a normal psychological interview.**

**Security brought Johnson into the room – in standard civilian restraints, see Section E.18 of the Experimental Safety Code – at 16:10. Icarus was observed to become-**

“Dr Lee.”

**-confused initially, followed by great distress as evidenced by---**

There was a cough, and then a firmer, “Brian. We need to talk.”

Brian stopped typing and swivelled around on his desk chair, raising an eyebrow at Colonel Riggins. Personal visits from the Colonel were unusual. Unannounced visits were unprecedented.

“Is it important? I really should finish this report by-“

“Is that the report on your most recent experiment with Svlad?” The Colonel’s voice sounded quite intimidating. Brian imagined that was a result of military training.

“With Project Icarus? Yeah, that’s the one. It’s pretty interesting-“

“I’m sure you found it very interesting,” Riggins cut in, tone indicating that he did not share the doctor’s opinion. “I may not have a PhD, Dr Lee, but I’m not an idiot. Don’t think I’m unaware of the real goal behind that experiment.”

“Real goal, Colonel?” Brian asked, wearing his usual easy smile. It rarely left his face. “The real goal was outlined in my proposal: to test Icarus’ performance under extenuating circumstances.”

“The proposal that you conveniently submitted when you knew I was away, because you knew that it would get vetoed if I was here to read it,” Colonel Riggins said, walking further into the room. “It’s funny that the rest of the research team think Patel is the sadist just because she incinerated a couple of books and destroyed a teddy bear. Yes, of course I know about that. I’m not the fool you all seem to think I am.”

Brian’s smile was faltering a little, his posture stiffening as Riggins continued.

“But Dr Patel is just frustrated because she believes that she deserves a better assignment. She doesn’t hide the fact that she takes out some of that frustration on Svlad, and I can live with it, because she’s a good scientist.”

“Sorry, Colonel, but I think you must be confused. I’m not doing anything that’s against protocol,” Brian said, brow furrowing fractionally.

“No, I agree, you’re not. You’re working the system, making sure that whatever twisted enjoyment you get out of terrorising Svlad is being gotten in a rule-abiding manner. There was no scientific purpose in making him believe he was going to get tortured by that maniac again. Just like there was no scientific purpose in making him feel responsible for Agent Jonathan’s death. Just like there was no scientific purpose in repeatedly volunteering him to be used as a meal for Project Incubus,” Riggins ground out, “This wasn’t science. This wasn’t petty frustration. This was a calculated, repeated effort to hurt Svlad, because it amuses you.”

“The subject was in no real danger, I took every precaution-“

“Do you think Svlad believed that he was in no real danger? I doubt it. He tore through his own stitches just so you would end that godforsaken experiment early. Is that the sort of thing a man who believes himself to be in _no real danger_ would do?” Riggins retorted, voice raised now, “To expect him to endure that for two hours… It’s a miracle he lasted thirty minutes. I’ve put up with you until now because Svlad is familiar with you, but this crosses a line.”

“You have no reasonable cause to fire me. I followed protocol,” Brian shot back, smile gone now.

“Yes, you made sure of that. But I don’t need reasonable cause to move you to another project. I don’t think Banshee will be so easy to frighten, and the psychologist working with her is eager to transfer to a less… volatile subject,” Riggins replied, pulling a yellow reassignment slip out and slamming it on Brian’s desk.

They stared at each other for a few terse moments, before Riggins strode away. Brian swivelled back around to finish off his final report on Project Icarus. At least he’d gotten some fun out of it, he thought, while it lasted.

 

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 06434.1**

**At Colonel Riggins’ request, Icarus was given one extra day of recovery time due to the unanticipated effects of Experiment L.209.**

**Colonel Riggins’ second request, for Icarus to be given a partner for this mission, was denied due to a shortage of available agents.**

**Transport of Icarus to the mission location began at 06:00.**

* * *

 

“Please don’t make me go,” Svlad was saying, “I just need a couple more days. Can’t this wait a couple more days?” Colonel Riggins thought that Svlad looked eerily like he had when he was sixteen, just returned from his first mission with that moron Jonathan, shaken and pale after witnessing death for the first time.

“The mission has already been delayed for too long, Svlad,” Riggins replied firmly, patting Svlad’s shoulder, and frowning at the way he flinched. Medical hadn’t said anything about a shoulder injury.

“I’ll solve it extra fast when I do get to it, I won’t waste any time on other cases, I’ll-“

“Kevin Johnson is dead. There’s no need to be frightened of him,” Riggins cut in, watching as a van pulled up to the side of the curb. Svlad saw it too, and took a step closer to the gates of the base.

“You lied last time. You said he was locked up,” Svlad said accusatorily, “You said that I’d never see him again.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, just get him in the van. It’s freezing out here,” Dr Patel snapped, shivering in her lab coat. She’d drawn the short straw and was stuck with the official duty of ‘overseeing Icarus’ transfer to the external mission’.

The van’s engine revved, its driver obviously eager to stay on schedule.

“You’ll be fine, Svlad. The CIA won’t let you come to any harm,” Riggins insisted, nudging him towards the waiting vehicle. Svlad gave the Colonel one last pleading look, then reluctantly limped over to the van.

“You’d think he’d actually been tortured again,” Dr Patel scoffed, as the back of the van slammed shut, “So sensitive, that boy. Let’s get back inside; I’m overdue a coffee.”

 

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 06435.1**

**Mission control received a distress call at 01:08 from Icarus. The call was terminated when it was established that the subject was in no real danger.**

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 06436.8**

**Mission control received a distress call at 23:17 from Icarus. The call was terminated when it was established that the subject was in no real danger.**

* * *

 

**From the desk of Colonel S. Riggins**

I would like to remind everybody that you are not permitted to ignore distress calls. I shouldn’t have to be writing this.

Yes, I am aware that Icarus has made multiple unwarranted distress calls in the past 48 hours. This does not mean you can just ignore the calls. These nightmares will pass, Dr Novichkova assures me that they’re just temporary after-effects of the mescaline he ingested.

I recommend, however, that these distress calls be logged all at once at the end of the day rather than immediately after each call, for the sake of brevity.

 

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 06437.2**

**Mission control received distress calls from Icarus at the following times: 00:21, 02:42, 03:50, 22:19, 23:55. All calls were terminated when it was established that the subject was in no real danger.**

**There is no evidence of Icarus having started his mission yet.**

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 06440.2**

**Colonel Riggins ordered that Icarus be recalled from his mission at 15:00 today, as he has made no progress, and no apparent attempt at progress, in his mission. The research team are discussing a strategy to prevent further non-compliance in future missions.**

* * *

 

Dirk sat slumped in the back of the van, eyelids drooping. He’d barely slept for a week, brain telling him he was in danger every time he closed his eyes, even when he’d left all of the lights on in the apartment and checked the lock on the door ten times.

He knew people would be angry. Colonel Riggins would give him a stony look, and Dr Esposito would want to do more of those horrible sessions with the electrodes and Dr Patel would call him a ‘stupid child’. She said it so much that it had practically become a nickname, nobody raising an eyebrow when she had continued to use it well past his 21st birthday.

Their anger, Dirk mused, would at least be easier to deal with than being stuck in that apartment, his only company the creaking of floorboards and his own bad memories.

The van jolted and Dirk groaned in pain, still recovering from his stitches being torn. He hoped that all of this would be easier to forget about once the wounds were healed and scarred over.

He doubted that he would be so lucky, though.

 

* * *

 

**From the desk of Colonel S Riggins**

In the future, members of the research team will need my personal approval to use hallucinogenic substances on Icarus. With the budget the way it is, we cannot afford for something like this to happen again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know very little about the drugs mentioned, just what google told me. 
> 
> Anyway, Dirk didn't get to give his perspective much in this chapter, mainly because his brain was a bit drug-addled throughout and I wanted to get in some of Riggins' perspective, since chapter 5 will be told mainly from Dirk's. 
> 
> Come say hi in the comments and we can imagine painful deaths for Dr Lee together!


	5. Age 32, Todd

**Project Icarus**

**Age: 32 yrs**

**Supervisor: Colonel S. Riggins**

**Log Entry: 08737.1**

**Icarus remains unaware of the incidents involving other Black Wing subjects [see General Log 12083.1]. However, he has become more persistent in questioning recent staff changes, and the lack of external missions. The research team have suggested that this behaviour is a result of the discontinuation of [REDACTED] Treatment on Icarus, which cannot be reinstated at this time due to budgetary issues.**

* * *

 

Dirk rubbed his eyes in groggy confusion as the lights flickered on, dragging him abruptly out of his dreams and into the much more limited space that was his bedroom at the CIA. It felt like he’d barely gotten to sleep, it couldn’t possibly be morning yet. A glance at the clock confirmed his theory, it was close to midnight.

He was about to put it down to a malfunction with the timer that the lights ran on – it wouldn’t be the first time – when the door opened. That certainly wasn’t a malfunction; Dirk had overheard enough over the years to know that you needed a key, a fingerprint scan, and a code to open that door.

“Dr Patel?” he asked, frowning as he recognised the figure in the doorway. Although Dirk had become aware in his early teens that he had no actual privacy in his bedroom – the CIA hadn’t put any great effort into hiding the cameras – it was still unheard of for anybody to visit him at night. He felt bizarrely vulnerable in just his pyjamas as he sat up to face Dr Patel.

“Twenty-four years, I’ve worked on you,” Dr Patel was saying. Her voice sounded different somehow, and as he watched her take an unsteady step forward, Dirk realised she must be drunk. “That’s half of my life. Exactly half. Half of my life learning everything about you, probably more than you know about yourself, and we’ve never had a conversation that wasn’t part of an experiment.”

“Are you okay, Dr Patel?” Dirk asked after a moment of hesitation. This was definitely getting added to his list of ‘unusual goings on at the CIA in recent months’.

“I wasted the best years of my life on a dead-end project, why on earth would I be okay? You always did ask such stupid questions,” she snapped. Dirk kept his mouth shut. “I turned down so many good opportunities because I thought I was making my way up the ranks. But Riggins never wanted to promote me, he was hoarding my talent for his favourite _pet project_.”

Dirk suspected she was referring to him, though he had no clue why anybody would consider him Riggins’ favourite. Riggins had always seemed cold to Dirk, albeit less cold than the scientists.

“Why won’t you just escape, like the others?” That piqued Dirk’s curiosity. “At least if you would just escape, then I would have a reason to leave. To move on from all of this. It’s not like they have the funds to come looking for you.”

She was giving Dirk a strange look, containing a sort of wistfulness that he suspected didn’t feature in Dr Patel’s expressions very often at all.

“Sometimes, I suspect it’s that damned treatment. I was the one who proposed that, years and years ago, now. Do you remember? You attacked me, that’s how I got the proposal pushed through. I just thought having you a little sedated would make my life easier, I didn’t fully understand the effects,” she was saying, some of her words matching to Dirk’s memories but others just nonsense to him, “And they say even that’s wearing off now.”

“Treatment?” Dirk interjected somewhat cautiously. Dr Patel made a huffing sound that was almost a laugh.

“Stupid child, you don’t even realise. Drugs. Oxythropin, specifically. In the water. Didn’t you ever wonder why you were told not to drink from the taps during external missions? Why you were supposed to only drink from the water coolers the CIA sent with you?”

“Tap water isn’t safe for drinking,” Dirk mumbled defensively, parroting the words he’d heard so many times.

Dr Patel laughed. “Ah yes, it was Brian that came up with that one. And of course, you were already so heavily dosed on the oxythropin by then that you didn’t question that information. It’s a compliance drug, you see. Nothing too strong, just makes the subject inclined to be a bit more obedient.”

All of this information was a little much to be learning so late at night, Dirk thought.

“Won’t the other doctors be angry at you for telling me all of this?” he asked.

“I suppose they would be, if there were any other doctors here. You noticed Esposito left, and Novichkova. But it’s more than that, everybody’s gone now. As of Dr Crane’s resignation today, Project Black Wing is down to six guards, two administrative staff, Colonel Riggins, and me. That’s why they aren’t sending you on missions. Riggins can’t bear the thought of losing his last hope at keeping Black Wing going, and we can’t afford to go looking for you if you run.”

As she was talking, Dirk noticed that she’d left the door open. The door was never left open for any longer than absolutely necessary. He didn’t even know what the space directly outside of his bedroom looked like, he was always blindfolded when being escorted outside.

“Is this a test?” he asked after a few moments, “To see if I’ll try to escape?”

Dr Patel looked momentarily confused, and then she followed Dirk’s gaze over to the open door. She seemed to realise something, and then laughed again.

“Of course that’s what you think this is. God, Rick was right, we really have fucked you up,” she exclaimed with a slightly manic laugh, “So, say it’s a test. What are you going to do? Walk out? It would be easy, I’m nearly fifty, I’m no obstacle.”

She watched Dirk, and Dirk watched her back. For all the racing in his mind, he didn’t move an inch, the door still a far-off goal that he was no closer to reaching. The silence stretched out uncomfortably until Dr Patel broke it.

“Congratulations, Icarus, you passed.” She was wearing that not-quite wistful look again as she turned to leave. “Perhaps your life would have been better if you weren’t so good at passing tests.”

Before Dirk could answer, Dr Patel was gone. The worldview that Dirk had had until ten minutes ago went with her.

 

* * *

 

**to: <a.patel@[REDACTED].gov>  
from: <s.riggins@[REDACTED].gov>**

I got your letter of resignation, Anaisha. There must be something I can do to persuade you to stay. You’re the last researcher I have, what am I supposed to do with Svlad if he can’t go on missions and can’t participate in research? You know I won’t be able to replace you, no scientist with any experience will touch this project with a ten-foot pole, and I can’t just leave Svlad at the whims of a rookie.

You know Project Icarus still has potential. Please reconsider.

Colonel Riggins

 

**to: <s.riggins@[REDACTED].gov>  
from: <a.patel@[REDACTED].gov>**

I was looking through old experiment logs yesterday. Somebody’s gone through and redacted half the data, so clearly head office is getting ready to pull the plug on Black Wing and pretend it never happened.

We lost the war, Scott, you need to stop fighting.

Regards,  
Dr Patel

 

* * *

 

“Audio log number… Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? I never get the number right anyway, and I doubt anybody’s going to transcribe this entry,” Dirk said into the Dictaphone. This was Sony 7; Sony 1 through Sony 6 had all been broken or lost during missions. Sony 7 wasn’t even a Sony-branded Dictaphone, but the name HccToo didn’t have quite the same ring to it, in Dirk’s opinion.

“I’m not on a mission, and I’m not preparing for a mission, but something peculiar did happen so I thought I might as well record it,” he continued, “A teddy bear came through my letter box.”

He paused as he picked up the bear. It looked nothing like Morkin, the fur was a different colour and it was less floppy, but Dirk immediately understood the meaning behind it. He wasn’t surprised that, when he pushed on the door, he found it to be unlocked.

“Apparently… Dr Patel wants me to leave. Do you think this is a test?” Sony 7 stayed silent. “I don’t think it is. Besides,” he said as he stepped out of the door, the talking helping to allay his nerves, “Who’s going to punish me if it is a test, and I fail? All the doctors are gone.”

It felt unspeakably strange to see his bedroom from the outside, a cube in the centre of a much larger room. There were about thirty computers, and Dirk wondered aloud if there were ever thirty people working in here at once as he sat unknowing on his bed. The thought was a little disconcerting.

On one wall, there was a noticeboard. It didn’t appear to have been touched in recent months. One note pinned to it read:

_My son Zach has a piano recital this weekend and I have three extra seats, anybody interested? – Rick Esposito_

“I never knew Dr Esposito had a son,” Dirk murmured. That knowledge sat strangely in his mind. He wondered if Dr Esposito had encouraged his son to play the piano in the same way that he had always encouraged Dirk to use his abilities: with the threat of a painful electric shock if he failed.

There were a few other notices on the board, all fairly generic, all so far removed from the life Dirk had been living just a few feet away. Agent Kelly trying to set up a car pool; Dr Novichkova reminding people to keep the microwave clean; Dr Patel complaining about somebody eating egg salad at their desk.

Swallowing thickly, Dirk tore his gaze away from the noticeboard and began making his way towards what looked like the exit.

“This place is huge,” he found himself exclaiming over and over again as he wandered through the base, trying to find an exit to the outside world. In the end, it took just over forty minutes before he finally felt fresh air on his face.

“So. Here I am,” Dirk said, the terror he’d always used to feel when breaking the rules replaced with bubbling excitement. “I have my CIA ID, and a teddy bear. Oh, and of course you, Sony, I wouldn’t forget about you. But no money.”

He looked at the vast expanse of empty land that stretched out in front of him. The past twenty-four years of his life already felt like history, and he smiled.

“I suppose I’ll just have to find myself a case.”

 

* * *

 

**Log Entry: 09000.1**

**Colonel Riggins has been ordered by head office to stop searching for Icarus. As of this morning, [REDACTED] Base is under reconstruction and as such there is nowhere for Icarus to be brought back to.**

**An official review of Project Black Wing will be held in [REDACTED] next week. No further entries will be made in this log.**

* * *

 

Todd traces the scar on Dirk’s thigh as he watches him wake up, wondering how long it will be before he really gets used to being Dirk Gently’s boyfriend. Dirk is an enigma wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a seemingly never ending cycle of colourful jackets. Somewhere under all those layers is a history though, the sort of history that results in scars and a CIA badge and a strange aversion to the name Johnson.

As Dirk stirs, Todd is momentarily tempted to ask about the scar. After about a month of dating, Dirk had explained a little bit about the scar on his stomach, but the scar on his thigh hasn’t come up. Or rather, Dirk has been deliberately avoiding any mention of it.

“You’re still here,” Dirk murmurs, giving Todd a lazy smile. Todd snorts.

“You don’t need to say that every morning,” he replies, lying back down when Dirk tugs gently at his shoulder.

“But it’s true every morning,” Dirk counters, “And is it not-“ he pauses to press a kiss to Todd’s cheek, “-the sworn duty of any good detective to seek and to share the truth?”

“Alright, I get it, you’re not going to stop.” Todd rolls his eyes and allows Dirk to pull him in for a proper kiss.

Mornings with Dirk are peaceful. One day, Todd will ruin that peacefulness by asking about the scar, and the CIA badge, and the teddy bear with the weird name... but not today.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments so far, and for the kudos! I hope those of you who've been following this enjoyed the ending.
> 
> In case it's not obvious, oxythropin is a totally made up drug. Feel free to ask any questions about this 'verse in the comments, I'm considering writing a few one shots for it to follow up on what happens to Bart and potentially the Rowdy 3, and there's lots of extra info in my head that never made it into this fic.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me at gentledirkly on tumblr for fic updates and general Dirk Gently chatter. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated as always.
> 
> Edit: somebody did art for this chapter!!! [Check it out on their tumblr](https://solomandr.tumblr.com/post/158741518832/a-quick-doodle-inspired-by-guardsguardss-fic) (and thank you so much, solomandr!)


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